Mortal Coil
by Lady Corvusalia
Summary: Questions are leaves on a tree, but answers are whispers in the darkest shadowy crevice beyond the Black Mist. The only way to unravel the truth, is to seek their hidden location. But some secrets are guarded closely by the dead! Can she stay hidden from monsters of the past and present? Thresh x Sona x Lamb Rated M; Warden's Behest rewrite! R&R please!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 _Long, long ago, they say there once lived a man living in a city on an island far to the corner of Runeterra, almost an insignificant, forgettable place. Everyday without a break, he slaved over his work. For if he slacked for even a moment, it could all fall to pieces. One fateful day, he relaxed. It was his downfall. The legend refers to_ _Thresh, the Chain Warden. He is yet another creature with ties to the Isles. Those who survive, speak of a prison warden with a fondness for torture, whose preferred tools were chains. It's not surprising that such a monster's spirit would return, armed with chains. His sole purpose is finding worthy souls, breaking the minds and bodies of their hosts, and then carrying them back to the Shadow Isles where an unknown (but most likely terrible) fate befalls them._

 _Little to nothing is known about the Shadow Isles, despite the number of authors attempting to publish informational texts. Many set course to the cursed isles, only to never return._ _An eternally thick, unnatural fog blankets the islands from the view of outsiders. It is thought that the islands are home to countless forms of undead, though no one seems eager to perform the exploration necessary to find out the truth. It's infamy grows by the decade, becoming a looming threat...or merely a tall tale?_

 _A year after the Explorer's League was established, expeditioners were sent to explore a small portion of the isle and later, established the Twisted Treeline, a magician's outpost. Some say this is where the deviation that later became the sentience that is Maokai, a dark treant friendly to no one, living or unliving. Also said to dwell in these woods are unspeakable horrors that cause one's sanity to vanish in an instant._

 _In the Isles, there are many shades of death, and each is embraced rather than feared or reviled. One can only ascend from one state to the next with the magical aid of a skilled professional. Yorick, the Gravedigger, is one individual who serves this role. He acts as a ferryman for the Isles' undead denizens, helping them climb death's many-tiered ladder. Another being is the feared lich, Karthus, the Deathsinger. What other beings may live here are unknown._

 _"Most of the Shadow Isles' history comes from the two mysterious altars of the Twisted Treeline, that says fragments of their history to its capturers and from the League records of the Shadow Isles' champions..."_

"What are you doing, Lux?"

With an eep, the blonde haired girl slammed the tome shut, stumbling over her words as she spoke, "O-oh hello there big brother. Y-you startled me. What's up? Why is everyone in such an uproar? The last hour or so, people have been running around like a chicken that lost it's head."

The broad shouldered man looked down at the petite magician and said darkly, "The War Council came to a consensus: Invasion and destruction of the Shadow Isles. All able bodied, warrior or mage have been drafted."


	2. Act I

**A/N: Well hello there my precious sheeple. You've been waiting so long in agony for me to get around to rewriting this, haven't you. What a terrible fate you've fallen into, hopelessly pining after a mere fanfic! It fills me with such sadistic pleasure to see you squirm in your seats. You know you were fapping or fingering in your chair on your tablet, laptop or chair. Aren't I absolutely terrible?**

 **Warning: This fanfic is rated M for a significant reason. There will be some rather unsavory characters, explicit language, acts of a sexual nature, non-consensual sexual content and lots of violence. Do not read if you are not a mature person or under the age of 17. Seriously, this fic is very dark and nasty. Don't read unless you can take it.**

 **And finally, a disclaimer: I do not own League of Legends. Riot has that pleasure.**

 **Love, Lady Ornifex**

Act I

Sona shuddered as she first touched down onto the shores of the Shadow Isles. It was a different kind of cold than experiencing the eternal snowfall in the mountains of desolate land, and it felt drained, as if some malevolent force had sucked the very life out of the place. Like a deep corruption that sapped the life from the earth. A constant chill pervaded her bones despite her warm fur mantle that she wore over an elegant, flowing dress tailored of Demacian origin. Somehow, the garb still revealed deep cleavage hosted by F cup breasts at the very least. Her features were clearly of Ionian descent, but carried herself like a noblewoman: elegant but far from arrogant.

Strapped to her back was a unique instrument. An etwahl, magicked to never rust, rot or weaken. It was this tool that had made Sona Buvelle pave fame across the land of Valoran. She had even participated in a band known as ' _Pentakill'_ from time to time, expertly adding darker tunes to the thrum of guitar, bass and drums. She understood now, the sort of place that those monstrous beings in the texts came from. She, at least held a bond of sorts with Karthus and Mordekaiser, through their love of music, but the rest of them... Evelynn, Elise, Yorick, Hecarim, and even those others of similar morality, she could understand the sort of place they called 'home'. But that did not mean she had to like it. She didn't even want to be here, a desire to be back home with her adoptive mother and practicing new melodies. But a burning curiosity prevented her from being content with simply that. Her past haunted her and there would be no rest from these thoughts until she sated them with the truth.

"I know Sona, this place creeps me the fuck out too," murmurs the minstrel's companion, noticing the discomfort on her friend's face. The owner of the voice of empathy belonged to a nine tailed fox woman with fur as white as snow. Attentive vixen ears tilted at the slightest sound. "But you told me you were desperate to find the truth. Perhaps we can learn what we need without disturbing the locals. That sound good to you hun?"

Nodding curtly, Sona bid farewell nonverbally to the kind 'priests' whom had so selflessly given the two women a lift to the sunless archipelago. Though the dip on her curtsy was a tad low and gave the men quite a view.

"I hope Elise doesn't figure out we deceived her cult for a free boat trip out here," commented the vixen, pulling her tails close for warmth. Her quivering voice gave away the hint that she was cold. "I doubt she'd be very pleased with sacrifices escaping. Especially after the sheriff of Piltover published her findings about the truth that happens should you 'join'. Anyways, we shouldn't stick around."

The Maven of Strings giggled softly, but made no comment because of the simple fact she couldn't. It was her curse to play extraordinary music, but be unable to accompany those sweet tones with a voice of her own. A mute musician some would call her; others the Silent Songstress. And it was for this very reason they landed on the dusky shores of this evil land. her past was shrouded in mystery to everyone, even herself and it was her goal to unravel the foggy truth.

From the beach-head into the treeline, the two ladies entered a horribly cliche'd forest, leaving only two sets of shallow footprints as evidence they were ever there. A worn, vine covered signpost labeled it as the Black Wald. A dangerous place that eventually led to Vilemaw's lair if one was lucky enough to stay hidden from the spawn of the massive spiders that made their home in the decaying wood.

Upon entering a thick wooded area, the two mortal women were face to face with a strange creature with a spirit companion. It was no further than a stone's throw away from where they entered the parting of skeletal trees. The floating ghost was wolf like in appearance, but wore a sheep's mask. And the shorter was like a humanoid sheep, but wore a wolf's mask.

"What are you doing on this horrid land, human and fox? The living are not welcome here. Turn back and you may just hold onto your lives a little longer. Neither of you should be seeing us for a time to come. But here your life will end quicker. Go... go back to safety," sang the anthro sheep woman.

Sona wanted to answer, but because she couldn't, Ahri spoke instead. A sharp retort was the first thing to fly out of her mouth, "Now hold on just a second, sheepy, we didn't come here by choice of a lovely vacation. We came to seek answers about Sona's past. And who are you?"

"We are never one..."

" **...without the other,"** said the black canine ghost, finishing his partner's sentence.

"Because we are Kindred, the twin spirits of death," spoke the smaller of the two. "He is Wolf, and he chases those who run from Death and dread our arrival..."

" **Lamb takes those who willingly die with her bow,"** finished the hovering wolf-spirit.

Nodding Lamb repeated her warning, "Leave this corrupted land and we will not see you for a century to come." Without waiting for an answer, a comment or an argument, the Eternal Hunters vanished into the dark wood.

Xxx

A lone ship flying the flag with embellished skull and crossbones anchored itself briefly on one of the lesser islands devoid of any wandering dead. Pirates, brigands and other unlawful types were manning the top deck were doing all sorts of repairs like mending any tears in the sails, singing incoherent shanties and being boisterous in general Do you think that's really what was going on? Not quite. Every single one of them had an expression of dread or nausea on their faces. As if something were to swallow the ship below the waves.

Standing on the ramp leading to the shallows near the misty shores was a chocolate skinned man. Before him was the infamous king of pirates, Gangplank. A large, hefty sack full of gold was transferred to the less than savory first man, a little hesitant to let go of his hard earned cash. With a little tug of motivation, he released the grip on the sack of metal money.

"Pleasure doin' business with ye," barked the white bearded man with a fake hand. "Now git offa me ship, Lucian. Something jus ain't righ' bout this place. Ah'd like t' get the hell outta these freezin' waters n plunder booty at port! The doldrums are a-comin and I'd rather not tarry. Yanno what they say: bad wind is better'n no wind."

"Fine with me. Was worth the outrageous price, even putting up with the disgusting slop you fed me," replied the marksman as he dusted off the grime from his ivory white trench coat. To himself, Lucian muttered, "I WILL find that monster and avenge her..."

In the background of what was going on, the first mate was yelling at the unranked swime, "Oi, you bilge rats better be fuckin careful with that! The greedy merc Sivir paid us a handsome amount of gold to get that creepy thing here. Now go deliver it before I crack the cane on ye!"

"Aye siree!" they replied as one, obeying and hurrying to carry out their orders to deliver the massive, ornate coffin to a nearby village before they could be whipped for their incompetence.

Within the time the gunslinger disembarked from the pirate ship, an unwanted stowaway began their escape. A shadowy figure scaled down the anchor that was slowly being raised with the four swabbies running like they'd seen a ghost to not be left behind. Leaping from rigging to rigging whilst remaining in the shadows. Vaulting back into shin high water where bony fish gnawed at the waterproof boots, the rogue lady waded onto dry land of black sand. And up the closest viewpoint she climbed, to survey all around her.

Lifting the red tinted lens to scope out her surrounding the woman put a hand on her hip. This person is Shauna Vayne, a monster and demon hunter. "So this is the land south of Bilgewater...the source of evil the black man was talking to himself about. I can feel it's unholy air trying to choke me with it's eternal misery. I know HE's here. I can feel his vile presence in the very dirt." From there, Vayne set off into the woods,, slaying all hostile life unlucky enough to cross paths with her.

xxx

Sona had tumbled into a small ghostly village, barely noticed by it's inhabitants. Lethargy seemed to be the commonplace, a gray state of each citizen dragging themselves about, living or phantom. Even if she played a short melody, the liveliest of the folk barely made eye-contact with her. Their depressing unlife seemed to sap her energy away if she stood still for too long.

' _It's as if their personalities were drained from their minds. Like they were tortured and broken. All of them have the same enthusiasm as a graveyard,'_ thought Sona to herself sadly as she walked into a dilapidated build of what was probably a rundown shop.

The inventory was paltry, even for a poor, lower end village. Shelves were mostly bare bar from a few worn and rusty stock, Nothing seemed remotely edible in the food department. The mute woman turned her nose up at the black, shriveled fungi sitting on the front counter for two gold crowns apiece. And everything else for sale had some sort of defect.

Immediately, Sona turned heel and strode right out of the crumbling hovel. Was there even anything to eat on this accursed land? Or was it merly home to toxic mushrooms and starving malformed chimaeras and madding voices?

That cursed voice inside her head was stripping her of her sanity and Ahri was nowhere to be seen nor found. The kumiho had raced off in the woods, shouting something incoherent, leaving the mute musician all alone in the increasingly depressing ghost town.

At first, it had started as a whisper on the wind while sailing the waves with the cultists she and Ahri had charmed into taking them to the main island of the archipelago. But after her foxy companion disappeared, the haunting quickly worsened, Like a mild neurosis evolving into a severe psychosis. And now the throbbing migraine was worse than ever and that cruel voice whispering self-esteem crushing insults at a constant shout.

In the bushes, hid Sona, hoping the pain would soon go away and the voice of her tormenter would vanish in the wind. That he would stop searching for her. But he hadn't gone elsewhere. She realized this as she looked up: her stalker was standing right there in all his terrible glory.

Grinning madly, Thresh discovered there were seemingly no strong foes alert from this side of the poor village. What a terrible mistake. Unhooking the scythe from his hip, the Chain Warden began to swing his weapon overhead as he neared the first group of civilians who began to panic. "Cling-clang go the chains, someone's out to find you," he spoke in a spooky, echoing voice that filled the village hidden in the grove of eternally dying trees. "Come out, and play..." His heavy footsteps crushed the gritty soil as the fog thickened around the village.

Soon enough, the first of the not so human guards came into view. As the militia became spooked, a scythe hooked into the neck of the hapless sod foolish enough to investigate, removing his head clean from his shoulders. The arterial spray painted his comrade crimson. Before the second guard could scream in horror, the weapon swung back, cleaving him in twain. "Wretched mongrels get the leash, the unlucky receive the blessing of death!" Two ethereal orbs floated out from the corpses, only to be snatched by the lanterns grasp. The two night watches now dead, the undead specter encroached on the rest of the village. He called out, "Poor, lost souls..."

Sona saw the madman, Thresh, casually striding into the defenseless village and her heart skipped a beat or two. Where were the others? Why weren't there any other armed guards nearby? She had no idea what was going on, but she had to try and do something. She drifted forward towards him, her music growing stronger, before she focused the sound into a bolt of energy, lancing out to lash at him, before focused the power of her song to energize the movement of the guards. The mysterious magic of her music got to work. She would stand up to him, no matter what. She would do her part to protect these people, as a woman who could not leave innocents to die. If only to buy a little time.

"Oh look here, the Maven of the Strings herself has come to greet me in the welcoming party of this village's 'liberation," chuckled Thresh as he easily sidestepped the bolt of energy. Though her music reminded him...back when he was still living, the Chain Warden was unfazed. His soul was not so easily moved. "You know, it's impolite to ignore someone when being spoken to," he said, unspeakable creatures of the night lumbering forth, engaging the lumbering grey guards and gosts alike in combat. Wary of Sona's ability as a mage, Thresh circled her, as if playing with prey. Like cat and mouse.

She glared at him. He knew fully well that she was mute, after all, he had tried to break her mind. But she launched another burst of powerful, sharp sound towards him, not backing down as she cast out another wave of energy, mending the wounds of her allies. She refused to falter in the face of this mad man. She drifted towards him slowly, circling him as she tried to shut out the noises of battle around her. The Chain Warden was not a foe to be underestimated. She cast out another shock-wave of sound towards him, wanting to drive back his assault before more men got hurt.

Flaying soldiers around him, Thresh cackled without so much as a thread of remorse. Her music, while it stirred the soul, was not the best for direct combat. Dodging another bolt of sound, Thresh said, "Don't be that way, young lady, because your soul sings to me. You can speak, if not with your voice." He grinned. A thought tickled his fancy as he said gleefully, "I want to find out how you tick. You are mine now~"

Whipping the chain and hook in a circle around the human female, Thresh laughed madly. Then pulling in with a jerk, the chain tightened around Sona's waist. Then he began walking back inland, abandoning the battle. If you called the gory mess on the ground a 'battle'. If she would not follow willingly, he would drag her back to his lair.

She did her best to resist the pull, struggling, clutching at the chain and pulling, trying to free herself from his clutches. The musician felt terror coursing through her veins, as she clutched her instrument, trying to conjure some sort of effect to stop him, trying to build up to a crescendo but she couldn't focus herself enough as he dragged her, her face twisted in a silent scream into the darkness of the island, the battle continuing to rage. No one noticed she was gone, until it was too late, and it was over.

She glared at him in silence, arms folded under her ample chest. She refused to cooperate with the sadist, even as she was separated from her instrument. She doubted she could find her way back on her own, but she was not going to give up so easily. She could not speak, and he knew it. He was just taunting her, trying to make her feel like the inability was her own failing, she simply chose not to, but she was not going to give in so easily, giving him a dismissive gesture, before turning away from him. They had only gone a little a ways from the powerless haven. And she knew it was only going to get worse.

 **A/N: And so the first real chapter comes to an end. And just a reminder, this IS a rewrite of Warden's Behest just to make things clear. Reviews are adored and look forward to posting the next chapter. No spoilers here...**


	3. Act II

**A/N: So act one was a success. So comes the next chapter of this Harrowing tale...**

 **Warning:** **This chapter contains fairly gruesome content and possibly sexual themes. So as a precaution, I've decided out of the kindness of my own heart, to at least bid you wariness before continuing onward. Should that not phase nor terrify thee, then a world of untold mysteries lies before you...**

Act II

.

"My dear, sweet little songbird," purred Thresh as he walked closer to the entrapped maven, taking long, deliberate strides. As he walked in deliberation, the ground quaked and split. From the fissures around the two, towered a pentacle of opaque barricades to impede escape. Bladed walls to box his prey in for the slaughter! His bloodthirsty eyes shown enraptured delight as a mad grin spread across a face that mirrored his insanity."I know so, very much about you," he spoke in a creepy tone that promised unspeakable horrors, putting a fair amount of emphasis on each punctuation.

Pure terror was written up and down the Maven's pale face. Her heart throbbed in her throat as her brain went into overdrive. This was the first time true fear took root in her mind. It wasn't the first time she'd been attacked , or kidnapped, but they didn't have the same cruel intent or twisted expression. Sonatas, melodies and other upbeat styles of music she played usually kept her in good spirits no matter the situation. But there was no tune in the world that could displace the total fear Thresh instilled in her.

She wanted so bad to ask what had happened to her companion, but her disability prevented her from making so much as a whimper. 'W-where is Ahri,' she mouthed, no sound coming from her lips. She damned her curse of unable being able to speak words. It made so many things difficult, if not impossible.

Cocking his head to the side, he smirked as the hooks at the end of his braids to scrape against each other like nails on a chalkboard as though he had read her mind,. "The little fox pup that was following you? You ask me, where it is? Why, I easily outsmarted it and trapped it in here!" tauntingly, he flicked a finger at the eerie gothic lantern. "Oh and what a delicious feast of souls she had trapped in the silly orb of hers! Many, many sick and depraved souls of those whom she stole from the living by such deceitful methods.

She was simply mollified at the warped words spoken by the lunatic taking her captive. There couldn't be any way Ahri had fallen prey to this...monster, c-could there? He had to be lying! Her foxy friend was quicker and more cunning than the nimblest of pickpockets. And she had vowed to stop taking the essence of man. She had promised Sona she had truly changed. Because she had wanted so badly to become human.

"Don't believe me? Then why not take a gander into my lantern and see the truth," sneered Thresh as he lifted the heavy, windowless lamp frame to the reticent woman's face. At first, nothing seemed more than ordinary about the object chandeliering from the chain in his hand. That was until the eerie, swirling teal mist began to take shapes of the faces which were the remnants of the souls the Warden had taken.

Tears began to flow down her flawless cheeks upon realizing the demise that her friend had met, staining the porcelain skin. She wept, but no sound came from her throat as she cried.

"Aha, a human woman who cannot speak? At least not to the outside world, trapped all alone in her brain. A cranium covered blue hair and then decorated with large breasts? Why, I think you're more than qualified to join the little harem I've started up," commented the Warden slyly. "Or you can be just another medal to add to the collection. Either way, you belong to me now!"

' _NO!"_ she cried as she began to squirm against the ethereal chains binding her. Physically, she wasn't very strong, nor tough. The magical qualities of her music was her real forte, and where her intelligence truly shone. But it was her misfortune to have it stolen away so easily. For all the struggling she might employ, it was all for naught. And she would thrash about the closer the Warden came. His hand was outstretched, a small pyramid of some sort of black powder lay. Leaning forward, he took a deep breath and blew the dust into her face.

"Sleep now, girly..." was the last thing the maven had heard before she blacked out. It had been commanded by the Chain Warden, catching her gravity could succeed in breaking the woman's nose. The illusory walls vanished as Thresh waved his hand in dismissal. Said madman began carrying the woman through the swamps that lie between him and the impenetrable fortress he called home.

Xxx

When the flow of consciousness returned to her, Sona discovered she was in an unknown location. A place with a malevolent heart with no rhythm other than the moaning of the dead. Her mind hazy, as though she had forgotten something important. She felt naked for some reason. But her body was damp with a semi sodden dress. Had they trekked through the swamp to get here? But she still needed to find a way to escape. If there was any possibility of that happening a time soon.

She tried to move any one of her limbs, thrashing as though she were a beached shark. But her body would not obey her will. Only by craning her neck into an uncomfortable position could the mute musician see what was restricting her movement. She was bound; not just her hands behind her back, but the rest of her body expertly trussed up as though she were goose of Christmas day.

"Is this what you were looking for?" asked a mocking voice. A wickedly curved, clawed gauntlet tilted her chin up just enough to see the spectral warden holding her etwahl in his other hand. "You won't be able to escape little girl. The more you struggle, the tighter the rope becomes. This, is the art of Shibari. It originates in Ionia, you know. What interesting tidbits to glean while picking apart the soul of a broken person, don't you think?"

"YOU MONSTER!" she screeched, continuing to kick and wriggle in a paltry attempt to break free of the tightening bonds. But no sound came out as she mouthed hundreds of curse words to her captor. As her arms were forcibly squeezed behind her back, the faintest of lewd moans escaped her lips. She might not be able to talk, but she could still make small noises. And to her captor, that dirty sound put the icing on the cake and delivered it to a voracious child.

With a twisted sense of mirth, Thresh cackled, the stitches threatening to tear. "This is so invigorating! Who knew that such an innocent was so into bondage! Oh this is so marvelously delicious!" And he grinned still, the chuckles metamorphosizing into maniacal laughter that hurt her ears. "A mere appetizer of course. Now come, come on to the main course!"

Sona's tears were diamonds sparkling in the ubiquitous darkness. She wept and winced as the Chain Warden forced her forward by the spectral chain leashing her to his waist. Without her beloved instrument, she was absolutely helpless to the insane whims of this madman.

Even further down into the dungeons he dragged her. Open flame greenish blue braziers lined the walls of the descending steps that spiral ever downwards. Steps that seemed eternally endless. As they walked, the Warden commented with audible glee, "These are the Halls of Agony!" Sona cringed at such a horrid name.

Once they reached what may be the deepest level below the surface, the Chain Warden jerked the mute woman just inside a metal box barely the size of a bathroom in an average home. Or a small lavatory in a medium sized estate. Irregardless, it appeared freakishly clean and mostly empty.

Only two objects in the entire room caught Sona's attention at first glance: a ceiling cabinet that seemed to stretch endlessly and a single metal table slightly inverted, Angled about thirty-three degrees so the butcher could work without bending his back nor arching his neck.

With a quick snap of the Warden's metal fingers, the resounding sound gave life to iron chains, giving them a slightly greenish glow. Dangling in the air, the madman drew an archaic sigil in the air. With a grating creak, they flew towards the defenseless woman and pinned her to the reflective, cold table. As they coiled around each arm and leg, the links constricted round until she could move no more. So tight that the frigid metal dug into her flesh. And when that moment came, a strangled whimper escaped her lips.

To begin his 'delicate' operation, the reaper waved open the twin doors of the cabinets. Rows upon rows of tools designed so eloquently for torture, interrogation and pain lined the inside of the wooden box. The madman mulled over picking which toy to use from the vast collection of bladed and hooked instruments. Which of these lovelies was the one to begin with: ' _So many to choose from,'_ he mused to himself as he removed the spiked gauntlets, setting them hands hidden since she met the madman, were long and thin. Paleness nearly whiter nearly whiter than the moon. In the process of concluding a dilemma, he picks up and weighted each of the daggers that seemed to appropriate to its intended use. But for all the ones tested, he replaced them onto the hooks that held them in place. A small, 'aha' was murmured as the madman gingerly lifted a blade no bigger than a dagger but hardly the right shape. It was thin and seemed to crackle a deadly energy. An artifact anyone with a shred of intelligence would immediately recognize it as the Statikk Shiv.

The mere anticipation of impending agony awaiting her kept Sona constantly roused in a repeating anxiety. Sweat formed on her forehead, her hands turning clammy. She could only hope for reprieve so far from her grasp where she was so sure this was the last day she will cease to exist.

Upon coming to a decision, Thresh gripped the ornate handle almost lovingly, twirling it adroitly between scaled fingers of the hooked gauntlets. There was almost a bounce in his step, barely containing his excitement as he strode up up to his most recent victim.

"Such flawless skin...I'd hate to mar it. But it seems you have no such luck," guffawed the lunatic as he took the Maven's hand. Roughly. He forcefully extended the arm as far as it could possibly go, sunken eyes raptly watching for the woman's reaction. The aforementioned woman's blood ran cold as ice as the madman's fingers probed along the veins, searching for something of interest. Then suddenly, the shiv was rammed through Sona's palm.

Agony ripped through out her body as the electrical charge from the Statikk Shiv seared her inside. Whatever magical qualities were imbued in the narrow blade, it was the reason she was screaming on the inside. Her chest heaved and vision flooded white until she could barely stand it.

"Tsk, once again, no sound you bad girl," the madman scolded as he wrenched the the shiv out of her hand, eliciting a near silent gasp from the maiden. Warm, crimson liquid gushed from the wound, spilling over the edge of her palms. Even dripping onto the stone floor. Touching the tip of a digit to the wound until it was decently coated in her blood. Then lifting "This only means we will just have to try again until we get the desired effects. Sit tight my little songstress." chuckled the Warden in an almost too calm a voice. A betraying tone that only promised more suffering.

Gripping a small metal rod with a flat, circular head neared one of the torches that kept the room dimly lit. Thresh lowered it into the fire until the rusted metal glowed cherry-red. Tongue of flame licked at the strange tool before he tore it away, With a demented grin spidering onto his face he returned to Sona to continue the session of pain.

Near enough, he lowered his hand to her chest and shredded the fabric to expose her full, well endowed bust, "You are mine Now!: The mute woman was about to protest to having her clothes ruined before the Warden branded her with his personal mark. A soundless shriek and a wracking thrash came from the silent songstress.

Again, the undead Warden found himself changing tool of his grisly trade, opting for a small knife no larger than a simple metal fork. The blade was smooth instead of the usual serrated edge , curving into wicked point. "The Hexdrinker. You learn it's effects soon enough in a hands on experiment," elaborated the creature butchering his prey with a condescending sneer. The desire to simply destroy her perfect body with his scythe was overwhelming, but that'd have to wait for another time. After all, it's bad manners to eat before your food is full cooked. Here, the goal was to break her mind before separating it from her body. However, said woman had a resiliency uncommon in normal magicians.

Sona was hardly given any warning nor observation before the next bout of agony was inflicted on her body without mercy.

"AHAHA! Scream! Scream for me you helpless wench!" cackled the madman as he swooped in to slash the silent songstress through the chest, Only his hand mis-aimed and barely nicked the woman's bare breast. Flustered with missing his intended target, the pissed off phantom began jabbing and hacking at various places on her body. With each new wound he made, a fresh pump of blood leaked out from the narrow lacerations. For every fresh wound opened up, the mute woman thrashed as much as her bindings allowed her. There was no cry from her despite the intense pain reflecting into the expressions contorting onto her face. The unending waves of white hot pain seared her body. fear for her life began a panic attack like she'd never experienced before.

"WHY...WON'T...YOU...SCREAM?" shrieked the Warden, his movements frantic and irregular. This time, the madman changed the utilities of the tools used on the maven. This time around, he had chose a dirk; a long bladed knife with a serrated cutting edge. It was almost big enough to be recognized as a short sword. He raised his hand to inflict fatal damage, but then something so peculiar occurred.

A tiny, wispish voice reverberated inside his skull: ' _Please don't cut me anymore...it hurts so much..."'_

Thresh's eyes bugged out as he came to a realization of what was wrong. What the problem of why he couldn't fulfill his dark desires. Then out of the blue, he began to laugh with utter lunacy."Very curious. So very curious indeed! I must find out why!"

And in earnest the ancient phantom pulled one one of the gauntlets to his right hand. Then when so much as without a warning, he shoved his hand straight into her chest, attempting to grab onto something. As he pulled back, he was surprised to see the woman's soul in a swirl of vivid red, purple and light blue. And there were encroaching chains around the vulnerable orb of Sona's essence. They locked the soul away and left the owner with a random impairment; a sort of forbidden magic prohibited by most organizations. The Warden tried yanking and pulling on it, but it would not budge. However, unbeknownst to the madman, his own twisted soul, black as the night was glowing brightly. The magic chains holding the exhausted woman decayed within seconds of the meeting of the two souls. Tendrils of silver light intertwined tightly, linking them for a life of eternity.

' _What the hell is wrong with you? Shut the fuck up you crazy psycho!'_ Sona asked, believing no one would hear her, rubbing the deep welts left by the entangling binding that vanished. her movements were sluggish, weak from the near exsanguination. Her legs felt like lead; cold and numb. She's mute afterall, so nobody could possibly understand her, right?

A healing potion was thrust into her hands which she had difficulty lifting to her mouth. Once the glass was there, Sona drank greedily. Warmth returned quickly to the Silent Songtress' veins. The elixir had knitted all of her wounds to before they had ever been lain, without so much as leaving a single scar.

With a mad grin on his wicked face, he remarked, "I can hear you! You're no longer aphasic to me. Your voice is as clear as a river and sweeter than the trill of a bluejay. Oh and by the way, you've got quite a dirty mouth, my little songbird! Ahaha!" His laughter faded as his consciousness floated off elsewhere.

Whether with intrigue or horror, the Maven's eyes widened bigger than before to express her shock. But it came with conflicting emotions. While she was ecstatic that someone could finally hear her, but on the other hand, it was a creature that seemed unstable and heartless who at the drop of a coin could invade her innermost thoughts. Sona wanted to be alone at the moment, but the chances of her enslaver letting her free was zilch.

Snarling, Thresh broke out of his reverie and hissed, "Enough! Begone from my sight you harlot! Have some decency and put on some your clothes you whore." It was almost a complete turn around, having been showing a sliver of what must have been the real man inside and then reverting back to the slash-happy lunatic. With an incoherent mutter, a suit of armor clunked into the room. Whomever lived inside the black plate obeyed without question, taking the mute musician by the arm.

He...or perhaps it, led Sona up and up, never slowing nor stopping. all the way to the tallest tower of the fortress they went. A left and then a right a few feet later, they came to a halt. Then the leash disappeared and the anonymous man shoved her into the room. At this point, the Maven of the Strings had no energy left to struggle. But she was alive and kicking at the very least. however, she was now forever marked, tainted and branded by evil.

Xxx

Within a private chamber inside the castle at the heart of Demacia, a council of sorts was in progress. Each of the advisors to the crown met the summons to discuss an important matter. Even various diplomats from Ionia, Bandle City, Mount Rakkor, and Piltover had come to hear the vague proposal noted in the invitation. One that could change the eternal fate of Runeterra. Noxus and Zaun had 'kindly' declined the grudging invitation. With it's straining relationship with each other, it was no surprise if they decided to launch an all out war. To officiate the council, a neutral party from Kalamunda was here to keep an eye on things.

"Glad you could make it father," spoke Jarvan IV, his face sporting an emotionless stare. His voice carried a grim demeanor as tired eyes met the current king's. "You remember approving the reconnaissance of the Shadow Isles?" At the man's curt nod, the prince continued, "only a quarter of our scouts returned alive It's truly teaming with the unliving. Monsters far more terrifying than we thought. By the Light, we must eradicate the source of the undead. For centuries, the Hunter's guild has tried to purify their presence on Valoran with little success. They simply did not have the resources to pull off such an invasion. Demacia and it's allies do. Even as we speak, a few hunters are already in the Shadow Isles. "

"You ask an impossible task, prince," answered the older gentleman. "It would take an incredible monetary figure in order to carry out such a task. Food to feed willing soldiers, immense shipments of materials to clothe and armor the vast army of Demacia. Is such an assault surely worth such an expense? I think not."

He didn't want to resort to a dirty ploy, but he had nothing else to play. Slowly, Jarvan began, "About a month ago, the Buvelle prodigy went missing on the Isles. Your favorite musician took an expedition to the cursed land for a personal reason unknown to us. None has heard from her nor her bodyguard since. What do you want to do about it, father?"

The monarch's eyes bulged slightly in anger and malcontent. Spittle flying from his mouth and beard, Jarvan the III shouted, "Muster the first, second and third battalions to rescue my love!"

Xin Zhao, one of the prince's elite guards coughed, "Don't let the Queen hear you say such things, sir."

Flushing, the man with graying hair said, clearing his throat, "What I mean to say, is a valued and irreplaceable member of this court is being held hostage to the forces of the Shadow Isles. Sona Buvelle must be recovered at all costs. She keeps the court in a lively mood when she plays. Without her, there is no point in holding political parties. Her music is so divine, we must have her back! And er yeah, the inhabitants of the archipelago south if Bilgewater needs to eradicated. Son, rally all forces and depart for the Isles at once."

"Do we not get a say?" Said Akali of the Kinkou, the representatives of Ionia. A hint of anger was almost audible in her tone, but the curled fists quaking in her lap was evidence she was unhappy. The rest of the envoys nodded and muttered in agreement, showing interest on letting their point of opinion be heard.

The council reseated itself as many of the elderly war advisors grumbled. "I suppose it's only fair to give a say to our allies," spoke the monarch of the noble city. "Since you brought it to attention, you may voice any concerns you have first."

"We would be glad to," spoke the ever neutral sounding Shen. He cleared his throat and began, "There are many flaws with the idea you proposed to us. Whether or not you calculated the ratio between available men and the endless armies of the Shadow Isles, there is simply no way to overcome such a force. Your second mistake is believing that the Shadow Islands are in need of purification. Whether you realize this or not, the unholy land is why Valoran and Ionia flourishes with life. For all the dead we send to sea, they claim the corpses. It is this cycle that keeps them sated. The only reason they stay to their corner of the map unless unleashed.

"What does that have to do with the invasion, " asked Jarvan IV brashly, crossing his arms.

"It will upset the balance of the world in your attempts to cleanse the undead roaming the Shadow Isles. None of us care for it's existence, but it's a vital part of the system of death and renewal. My comrades and I will not aid you in a fool's errand. Heed my warning, do not disturb the slumbering beast..." Almost in an instant, the three representatives from Ionia disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"And what about you, representative from Bandle City?" Questioned the king.

"Recently, we have suffered major damage in a struggle against Veigar the Evil. Devastating fires, ruined homes and even death," answered Tristana, a woman considered tall by the standards of her people. "Yet when we requested aid, you sent nothing, not even a single warrior came to defend us from the tyrant's attacks. Only by one yordle's bravery, were we able to subdue him and put him in jail. So if you think you deserve our help, then think again. When you win back our favor, maybe then our nations could be allies. But You can go on your suicide mission without us!"

That venomous retort struck close to home for the prince, as though a viper had bitten him and gave him hours to live. His father and himself had neglected to think what the consequences would be to ignore the plea for their help. Now, it had cost them an alliance.

A sigh escaped the young prince's lips as he turned to the last available faction: the city of technological advancing. "Sheriff Caitlyn, Vi I thank you for coming out here tonight. What are your views on expeditions to the Shadow Isles to stop a force from growing too powerful? And please don't tell me we've offended you in some way."

"I have no quarrel with the crown, but it's personal vow, Jarvan IV," scowled the sniper, teeth clenched. Anger was boiling in her blood as she spoke. The pink haired hex-tech tinkerer laid a hand on her partner's clenched fist. Sipping a cup of tea in order to calm down, Caitlyn continued, "Bilgewater Port isn't the only place that had been tormented by the black mist. Sometimes, the one known as the Chain Warden would haunt the streets before stealing innocent unmarried virgins. No matter how quickly I follow his trail, I can never catch up to him. None of them come back. A monster whose life I'll have on a bullet next time I see him."

'"Then were done deciding. "Zaelig, Said. "Meeting, adjourned." Said the neutral face refereeing the summit. "A decision has been made. Demacia with the aid of the Rakkor and Piltover city shall assault the main stronghold on the Shadow Isles."

A vast majority of the room's occupants shuffled out the single entrance, having no desire to linger. A decision had been made. One that will forever alter the fate of Runeterra.

xxx

Almost simultaneously, Grandmaster Swain paced impatiently in his study, awaiting someone who should have arrived ten minutes ago. He stopped in front of the only window in the room. Gothic latticework laced the glass in a spidery crosshatch. His harsh gaze overlooked the darkened streets of Noxus in which he reigned over. Despite

A larger than normal raven perched on the broad of his shoulder. Six unblinking crimson eyes stared at nothing in particular, but gleaming with intelligence.

Suddenly In an explosion of smoke, a slender feminine figure appeared from nowhere in the center of the room. It took several moments for the puffy white gas to dissipate. The owner of the sultry, womanly form was known as LeBlanc, head of the Black Rose. Around her neck and covering her shoulders was a mantle of blackbird feathers. A long silk robe clung to her skin. Opulent, but fairly revealing. Her feet had been swallowed by a pair of sparkling gray high heels.

"Always with the theatrics. You're late," growled a gravelly, impatient snarl. "You know I absolutely hate waiting. As I've always said, the early bird guts the worm."

With a respectful bow, the now revealed woman replied, "My most sincere apologies, Lord Swain. The Black Rose kept me late with mistakes to be corrected. They failed to erase evidence that would lead directly to us milord. So I stayed back after the meeting in order to wipe the trail clean. Now, of what services do you require of me?"

Striding away from the intricately designed window, Swain began, "Amelia, I've recently come across quite an interesting snippet of Intel. Old Jarvan believes with a handful of supporters, he can purify the lands to the south east. A fool he is and those errant actions will play him right into my trap." To make his point, he curled his hand into a fist.

"It's LeBlanc," hissed said woman with a scowl to match her leader's. "What will you do with that information? You declined their invite to listen in on the same intel. So they may not realize you could attack them while they are defenseless."

"Too easy to simply invade our longstanding rival," mused the balding Noxian. "With the intelligence Evelyn provided me for a small price, I have a scheme I want to put into motion. The idea is not to attack Demacia at it's core, but to weaken it's forces in which they will have no reinforcements to defend against an onslaught of mercenaries and soldiers. In order to play the plan, I intend to supplicate the ruling king of the Shadow Isles with an elite, hand picked platoon. Warriors stronger, more deft and cunning than the average sheep on the street. And I know exactly-"

Suddenly with a flick of his wrist, a sinister magical array appeared on the plush, carpeted floor. At first glance, it looked like any other corner of the room. However, the moment strange claws yawned out the floor, strange violet binding latched onto an invisible humanoid. A few seconds passed and the person became visible, the spell having leeched his remaining mana. He was a short, stubby man. Useful considering his line of work.

"A Demacian spy eh? I know exactly what to do with you," cackled Swain as his body began to morph into something horrific.

xxx

"Aghh!" Yelled the warden as a massive crossbow bolt slammed into his collarbone, effectively throwing him back and pinning him to a blackened tree.

Normally, being impaled by a three foot would kill a mortal man in mere seconds from the sheer bleed-out. But Thresh was far from fragile. Resiliency was a part of his nature. Ever enduring, unkillable. A spirit of vengeance and retribution warped by the art of slaughter.

"How rude," scoffed the madman as he pulled the searing silver spear from the top of his torso, not a drop of blood spilled from the wound. In fact, the muscle stitched itself right back up and even the clothes and armor repaired themselves. "Didn't anyone tell you a hunter is supposed to announce her presence before she tries to kill someone?"

A scowl seemed to be Vayne's default expression as she prepared to launch another massive silver bolt into his gut. This time, the Warden batted the projectile to the side as it embedded into the ground. It seemed he was even reluctant to bother drawing his weapon. It seemed that there was something else he had in mind for someone who hardly bothered introducing themselves before attacking. To him, it was more like a game of cat and mouse.

The marksman didn't give the mad spirit any time to rest as she fired a volley of silver bolts. Most embedded their razor tips into the environment, totally missing their mark. A few however, smote the undead maniac on the arms and shoulders, causing nasty third-degree burns in the locations struck from the allergic reaction to the sacred silver bolts. Of course she didn't stop there; running ever closer while keeping a safe distance from her prey. Then when Vayne saw an opportune moment, she rushed forward with to attack!

"Oops, my bad," mocked Thresh with a cruel laugh as a stray leg tripped Vayne, causing her to tumble to the cold ground. The spiked greaves caught onto the Lycra-latex bodysuit, ripping a sizable portion that caused her breasts to spill out.

Shrieking, Shauna screamed, "YOU BASTARD!" It was obvious at this point that the demon hunter was consumed by her rage. She was trying her damnedest to cover herself to keep her modesty. But the vain attempts to hide her forced wardrobe malfunction left her completely defenseless before the madman.

"Hmm, you're not bad looking, but I think you could be better. Mm, I have just the thing specially for you. Drink up, pet," sneered the Warden as his hand revealed a small flask. It was a deep crimson with a color far too close to the shade of fresh blood. With his attacker incapacitated, it was nothing of a challenge to pinch the woman's cheeks to open her mouth and tip the bottle upside down.

As the last of the foul concoction slipped greasily down Shauna's throat, a look of disgust contorted onto her face. But it didn't last long, swiftly replaced by a shriek of agony with an accompanying twisted expression of pain. Already on the cold ground, the captured huntress arched her back as the bones in her back shifted around to allow newly forming limbs to tear through the skin and enter the world. Cartilage and sinew wove onto the thin bones jutting out from her back.

When the transformation was finally complete, Shauna Vayne was nearly unrecognizable. Whatever that liquid had been, it turned the demon hunter into an anthro bat creature covered in dark pink l, almost red fur while retaining her long black hair. Leathery bat wings had sprouted from between her shoulder-blades. Her face had elongated to that of a flying fox, but kept a familiar humanity. Hands and feet had morphed into paws ending wickedly curved claws. Shauna's ears had migrated to the top of her head and changed into big fluffy ears that twitched at the slightest sound. Even a short, thin tail had grown just above her curvy ass cheeks.

"What'd you do to me?!" Squeaked Vayne as she inspected her strange, new body. Even her voice was different. It had lost it's intimidating edge for a more sultry trill. She wobbled on unfamiliar feet, catching herself on a splintered tree.

"An experiment," Thresh replied, voice full of evident delight at the completion. "I'm truly astonished it was a success. More surprised you didn't bite the dust."

"W-what do you mean?" Asked the bat fearfully.

"The chances of survival were a hundred to one," cackles the wraith-like man as he strides up to her and pets his newest slave On the head. It was rough with those nasty gauntlets he wore, but the gesture in itself, was kind. "A perfect creature to be a sex slave if I say so myself. Let's get you back to the fortress my little bat." Of course there was something worse about the already bad situation in which a leather collar attached to a leash of the same material.

Shauna berated herself for thinking she was a match for a soul devouring phantom who had centuries of experience in slaughtering folk like sheep. He had disarmed her, trapped and forced her to choke down a potion that turned her into...well this. An over sexualized bat creature with breasts almost three times their normal size as well as an overall curvier body. All to be simple property to the Chain Warden.

Xx

So here she was, locked and naked in a semi shadowed room. The moonlight streaming in from the great windows was the only source of light other than a single candle struggling to not extinguish under the tyranny of the chilling breeze that stampeded every now and then from said window.

Only once she was alone, did Sona allow herself to examine the injuries she'd sustained. Only there were no visible wounds to see. Despite that, her whole body still ached with a phantom pain that seemed to linger.

Shivering again, Sona decided it would be better to use the clothes in the cherry wardrobe. Various neatly folded silk night gowns and simple Ionian robes lined the drawers. But instead, a headless mannequin in one corner of the room caught her attention. Slowly walking towards it, she discovered it was wearing the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen in her days as a musician whom had attended many formal events. It held a complexity that seemed impossible for even the most deft of seamstresses. Though floor length, it had a vertical slit cut up to the thigh just enough to tease. The primary color of the layered dress was not quite as black as the night, but crafted from only the finest velvet known to man. A v-neck cut would show an abundance of cleavage without showing any nipple. White lacing spun of moonbeam stitched at the ends of each tier of the dress to make an even bigger visual impact. To go along with the masterpiece was an equally finely crafted under-bust corset in a bright azure blue to contrast with the absence of color with the rest of the outfit. Crosshatched stockings were revealed when the silent songstress lifted the front of the garment.

 _'Who in the bloody hell is Priscilla?'_ Wondered the maven as she saw a woman's name embroidered on the tag by the hem.

 **A/N: So, it's done, the second chapter. Took fucking forever to really finish it due to all the original detail I wrote from scratch. Tell me what you thought about the chapter; what did you like, what made you uncomfortable and what you'd like to see in the fic. Have a good night and stop touching yourself you sick fuck.**


	4. Act III

**A/N: Jesusfuck, you all act like it's the end of the world if i don't update by the end of the week from the previous chapter I uploaded. So here's the next chapter so you can quit crying.. It contains elements and content from the original fic. However, there are numerous revisions and somewhat weaves in and out of the original plot for the new story. This is where it really begins!**

* * *

 _Act III_

The fog was unnaturally thick, as the fleet of Demacian ships sailed across the water towards the mysterious place known to most of Valoran only as the Shadow Isles. An impenetrable wall of black mist that only took the most careful and skilled of navigators to breach. Few ever set foot upon the shores of the archipelago, and fewer still ever lived to tell the tales of the place. But its touch could be felt across all of Runeterra, with its many enigmatic representatives belonging to their respective city states and countries.. But even so, it was a place of vile darkness, and was perhaps the single most potent threat to the peace of the world, greater even than the combined might of Noxus and Zaun. And so the Solari, and the Demacians had forged a pact in secret, to purge the place of its tainted presence. The fleet of armies glided forth silently across the water, lanterns lighting the way before they cast anchor and continued ahead on an armada of rowboats. Every which way were the faces of the famous alongside those of less renown, the Champions of the land, Heroes of the realm beside the average men who fought tooth and nail for their homeland. Jarvan the IV, crown prince of Demacia led the way himself, Leona, pride of the Solari by his side as leader of the forces from Mount Targon. The Crownguard siblings were elsewhere, while Xin Zhao tried to stay near his prince. It was after all, his borne duty to protect him. Shyvana was with the shock-troops, securing the beachhead for them, and should be coming into view as soon as- _bump_. The bottom of her boat scraped up on sand, and Shyvana climbed out of it with the unwanted aid of a friendly faced man who seemed uncertain why the half-dragoness was even here.

The moment the boats had landed, Quinn had taken off to scout things properly while Shyvana reported to the Prince. Luxanna set about lighting the place properly, doing what she could to banish the fog and darkness, and bolster the spirits of the men, but the music of the mute muse was really more than enough to achieve that. Only if she was here. Her presence was nowhere near. Misery of the soldiers was plain as day despite the lack of a sun.

"What's the report, Head Scout Quinn?"" asked a patrol who had been pacing the perimeter of the temporary encampment, until a base was actually constructed. Until the majority of the force arrived, the Demacians would stay on the beach before venturing further inland. No one knew the dangers that lie yonder of the guard having resumed his cautious vigil, only to be replaced by the visage of the very prince of Demacia, Jarvan the IV. Beside him, Xin Zhao stood in high alert, spear in hand, ready to protect his future king from the inhabitants of the island. He spoke up in a commanding voice, "How do thee fare, Quinn?"

The aforementioned woman was about to begin to speak, but was waved off rudely. Were all women in the army treated this poorly? Or was it something personal against her specifically?

Not waiting for a response, he continued, "The alliance with Ionia for this war seems to still be pending. Unfortunately, the natives of Kalamunda, Bandle City and the tribes of Freljord have all declined to aid us in our common goal. Perhaps we might appeal to Lord Tryndamere and Lady Ashe if they may join us or even bribe Sejuani if we must."

"Bribing? You'd stoop so low as to BRIBE a clan of people to fight your battles for you? I thought you were a noble prince in line for the crown. I... I was wrong. You're nothing than a power hungry brute. Come on Valor, let's get out of here," snorted the Wings of Demacia as she stormed off, a bluish gray eagle took off with her.

Xxx

A gargantuan airship containing a select force from Noxus touched down on a stone spire of the island one over. Not too far from the mainland, but still a safe distance. A stratagem that meant they would always be one step ahead of their sworn enemies. He knew Prince Jarvan IV had chosen the coast as his stronghold against the undead. And a poor decision at that. this tactic would give leverage over the Demacian army.

"Magister's Tower successfully constructed sir," an overseer said, saluting the Grand General himself. Power and respect is what ran the Empire of Noxus.

"About time," growled Swain as he limped on over to the site with the assistance of his gnarled, unremarkable wooden cane. With surprising speed, he ascended the spiraling staircase where he summoned the bare essentials from the tent he had previously operated from. "This room is acceptable. I want to see blueprints for additional structures to complete the garrison in twenty hours. Foreman, you are dismissed."

In only a few days, the hive of workers had built a High Command tower that speared through the sky. Reinforced windows dotted each level, giving view of the land below and the neighboring islands. A feat that would have normally have taken up to a month or two.

"Leblanc, please gather the people on this list," rumbled Swain as he thrust a piece of folded parchment into the illusionist's hand. "Have them report to my office in precisely one hour. Any one who dawdles shall be punished. You may go. "

Briefly, she looked it over, memorizing the specific names her leader had requested. As soon as she had done that, the dry, fragile paper burst into flame. All traces of the list was forever scattered and lost to the biting winds. "Your will be done," replied Amelia, disappearing in a plume of smoke.

Xxx

Assembled grudgingly, eagerly or indifferent, six individuals crammed into the diagonal office like sardines in a tin can. Less than an hour to notify each person, and almost the same time to squeeze them all into the grand general's study. Katarina, Talon, Darius, Draven, Riven and Warwick all looked expectantly to the Grand General. Waiting.

"What are we even doing here? There's not even any pretty women to adore me. Goddamn this place sucks. "

Heaving a sigh, Darius briefly placed a hand on his younger brother's shoulder, accompanying chastisement, "Be patient Draven. I'm certain he will fill us in sh-"

"It's not Draven. It's Draaaven," the executioner corrected as he slicked back his hair with no regard or regret. The narcissism was strong with this one.

"Ugh, if he does that one more time, I swear to whatever demon is listening that I'll fucking murder him," threatened the prodigy of the late General Du Couteau, unsheathing one of her throwing knives.

Giving a harsh glare to Katarina, Swain growled, "That's enough. I do not need my elite force bickering with each other over the simplest of things. You are all adults, so shut up and act like it!"

"Elite force?"

Clearing his parched throat, the Grand General answered the query, "Indeed. Those of you attending this little...meeting with the exception of Amelia and myself have been handpicked for a covert operations. Each of you has a special set of skills and tools to complete the missions each of you will receive. Infiltration, sabotage, murder or scouting. Each dossier has your mission, target and information on the target. You can get them from my assistant here. Do you all understand?

There were a few uncertain mumbles and muffled coughs, but it seemed everyone got the gist of what was going on. Some answered and others merely nodded their heads.

"Very well. A Noxian does not dawdle. Remember this well. Dismissed," growled Swain, stamping his cane upon the stone floor. Quickly, all six of the newly anointed task force dispersed, each with a highly dangerous mission in their charge.

xxx

Upon an uncomfortable throne, a wickedly spiked suit of armor lounged. If one were to peer inside, nothing could be discovered. A massive mace covering in jutting thorns sat in his lap. Unmoving, but a soul was still bound to the plated metal suit. Enslaved nightmares milled about the room, tending to their duties. Should one slack, or defy their master's will, their souls were forfeit and extinguished.

"Lord Mordekaiser," hissed a ghostly wraith as it floated before the 'undisputed' ruler of the Isles. An otherworldly echo followed it's voice as it spoke. "Lost sentinels have spotted living humans scouting the lands. The mutant Evelyn came to me with plans of an invasion by the separated forces of Noxus and Demacia.

Silence reigned for many moments before a grating, yet ghostly male voice said, "The warmth of life in my domain?! Mortals are being foolishly bold. I suppose we ought to raise an army of the dead to exterminate these unwelcome pests. Xaxus, fetch my generals from whatever crevice they slumber." another ghostly apparition split itself into four smaller ghosts, scattering to the four corners of the Isles.

"Yes my king." Another ghostly apparition split itself into four quarters, scattering to the corners of the Isles, it's destinations absolute.

"So it seems they finally come for me," mused the armored soul, rising to a sitting position from an unmoving slump. "Let them come. I will obliterate their armies and enslave them all!"

Xxx

A lone figure stood upon a cliff that spired above most of the beaches. The massive centauren figure stood stock-still as though he were a sentinel. His burning gaze rose over the the landscape, particularly among the waves. The ashen beaches usually were empty; not even ghostly crabs skittered across the sand, but today was different. The consistently stormy waters were dotted with lights from small boats. In the distance, massive battleships floated on the curling waves. This invasion to the harrowing lands of the Isles had not been unforeseen. As dead as the land seemed, preparation for war was amidst.

The war lusting quadrupedal equine hadn't moved far from his lookout over the Demacian encampment. An unhealthy fixation to bring sheep to the slaughter had overcome him. Until he was interrupted.

"Hecarim, the time has come for you to return to your master," hissed the spirit. "He is unhappy with so many mortals invading his land.

"More blood for me to spill! I have missed the field of battle. Our enemies shall know the might of the Shadow Isles! Tell Mordekaiser I will come at once!" If he could contort the empty helm into a wicked grin to express his excitement, he probably would have. It had truly been a long time since his spear bathed in the blood of his foes.

With the orders being relayed, the undead centaur galloped hastily back towards the center of the main island wherein the Ruined King awaits.

Xxxx

A tower was the sole structure on the smallest island of the archipelago. A place devoid of life. No flora or even undead birds stayed around.

At the very peak of of the spire in a study full of dusty tomes was an impossibly thin figure poring over several open grimoires. Completely absorbed in his work, he didn't notice the pest hovering nearby.

"Death-singer Karthus, Mordekaiser demands your presence at his keep at once. And notify Thresh that he too, must come as well. Refusing his summons would be the last mistake you ever make."

The grating sound of a skeletal man speaking was enough to terrify any mortal. "And so close to cracking the secrets to complete immortality too. Irrefutably the worst timing you could have summoned me. Very well, I will do as he says, if only to get this over with quicker."

Xxx

Before the massive black gates of the Citadel of the Damned, the Lich made his way to the inner courtyard where the real entrance to the fortress of the damned lie.

"Now, what could the bony man and the dead man's pet vermin want of me?" Sneered the Chainwarden nonchalantly.

With a lethargic sigh, Karthus replied to the insulting query, "It seems Mordekaiser has recalled us back to his palace to await new orders. Likely to receive additional instruction. I don't have time to argue with you today, so just come."

With a smirk on his face, Thresh mocked, "Why should I answer to him? I enjoy lording over this domain of mine. He can waste away for all I care. He can take his summons and shove it up his own ass if he's into that. Now begone!"

In a low screech, the spirit angrily spat, "You're making a mistake , Warden! The Ruined King will break you and shatter your soul. You've made a terrible enemy this day!"

"Whatever you say," snorted the Warden as he strode back inside. It was inevitable that conflict between the forces would occur one day. Power this skewed would always repeat the same history.

Xxx

Shoveling dirt on a fresh corpse, standing on a copse of loamy dirt. A routine the keeper of the dead was always on time. Bury and dig. All he ever did anymore. A timeless project that would never be complete so much as creatures continued to die and rebirth as a new life.

"Old undertaker of the dead, the Great King has great need of your services. Return to Necropolis for further instructions." The enslaved spirit listed off every reason under the moon to go back.

With a slow, warped voice, the hunched man with patched, and mismatched skin spoke, "Yorick Moring is needed once more. I will go. You may relay my answer to him. I will make my way back to the city on my own time. Go."

Xxxx

 **Hours later**

"Well?"

The wispish spirit disliked the Ruined King's impatience and would be long gone if not for being owned by him. An eternal damnation granted from poor decisions.

"Don't keep me waiting," growled Mordekaiser. The sound of creaking armor was his metal digits curling into a fist.

Nodding, Xaxus now whole again said, "The Undertaker came swiftly. Hecarim has business to attend to, but will come shortly. The same with the Death Singer. However My liege, the Chain Warden will not heed the summons. I could not slip past his force field. I had to beg to Karthus to relay the message you sent out to your generals. But he merely scoffed and essentially slammed the gates on necromancer's face

"What a fool. I can do this without the madman. And you, good that you're here. What do you offer? What can you do to rid this place of the living?"

Lowering the shovel to the floor and leaning on it, Yorick said, "Death is the gift I offer. Undead by the hundreds. Wights, revenants and nightmares to tear apart your enemies. Anything your will desires. There is no limit to how many will rise to serve your cause."

"An army without number. Excellent. Begin amassing the mindless husks. I will find you when the time to assault the humans is nigh..."

Xxx

The Warden sat upon a throne wrought of smooth stone. His mind was wracked with a familiarity with the woman he had impulsively kidnapped. In matches, he'd ripped her apart when she was on the opposing team. "What makes her so damn special?" he'd snap to no one in particular. "What separates her from the rest?" The wandering spirits would shy away from Thresh as he would gaze into his lantern. The souls that pounded on the ethereal glass of the lantern were screaming, hoping to escape. Why had he kidnapped the mute songstress in the first place? She could not speak by conventional means. Torturing her would not give him the satisfaction a normal human would give. Sona would not scream if he cut her open. Yes she would bleed, but her lack of being able to vocalize her terror was apparent. He had already tested this out.

Sona had been bound in the Warden's castle, surprisingly unharmed. For the most part. Though her body hung limply in her chains, she was still alive and healthy. She was exhausted, frightened, and wanted to rest but he had yet to actually lay a hand upon her, despite his apparent frustration though it seemed more with himself, than with her. She had no idea what he was doing, or why, but she was just grateful he found rapt interest in her. If he decided he was bored with her, Sona considered her life forfeit. All she could do, was cower and wait in fear until the next torture session.

The only good thing that had happened, is that she had been allowed to sleep without bindings on an actual bed. That was after twelve hours had passed and one of the servants woke her up, forcibly dressed her and shackled her hands to the wall again. Her semi-freedom had been nice while it lasted.

Storming to his feet, the Warden strode to the ' cell' where he had thrown the woman. He glared down at her hatefully. He was seething; it was the first time he had been unable to read a soul. Normally, he could see a soul shrieking in his victim's chest. But no, this woman's soul refused to be seen. It would be impossible to not have a soul. He wanted to hurt her and make her cry, but he knew he would not be satisfied. Instead, he knelt on one leg so that they were at eye level.

Roughly, he held up her drooping head and said, "Did you know, the eyes are the doorway to the soul?"

She looked up at him with her soulful blue eyes, meeting his gaze and then blinking a little, her weary mind wondering just what he had said again, not having caught it. She tilted her head as if wondering just what he wanted from her. She knew how he operated, and this was not it. He tortured people to death as a way to idly pass the time, he ensnared their souls and used them to fuel his own evil power. What plans did he have for the Ionian born musician? It made no sense to her, not that much did right now, really.

Now collared by Thresh, Sona was finally led to the throne room where the madman seemed to do most of his ruminating. Although seemingly grand by the sheer space, it was fairly plain as far as luxury went. A few aged trophies, but mostly bare walls of the centuries old fortress.

Upon the wall behind the throne, a lavish aquarium hung. The vibrant reds, greens and purples of the aquatic plants and fish contrasted against the muted greens, grays and dull maroons of the rest of the room. Though it seemed the tank was designed for plenty of space for a larger creature than the few fish that swam around, there was no sign it was there other than a few fish bones picked clean.

Morbid delight cracked on his pale lips as the reaper watched his newest pet sit beside his side on the cold floor. He rested his hand on the woman's head, rubbing it as though she was a pet. He held the etwahl in one of his hands and said, "I want you to play me something." He glanced at her warily and added coolly, "And don't even try to use magic. Those shackles will suck any magic. Mana is easily sapped. The metal they're made from is especially effective at absorbing magic." He was performing a crazy experiment now and there was only one way to figure out the results.

Sona looked to him, very confused by his request. He wanted... music? She wasn't certain exactly what to play, but she did, playing something from Demacia, a hopeful march, something that might be played at a parade for the king, something to inspire the people. As she played it, she felt hope herself. She was going to be alright. The others would come and save her from him, she was sure of it.

Thresh closed his eyes, listening to the melody she played. It was somehow...soothing. It was as if he could feel his heart, the one he had surely known was gone. Normally all he heard was the wailing cries of spirits in agony. The only songs he heard were of the dead. It had been many years since he heard actual music. Perhaps, he was discovering a fragrant of his old self, before he started pushing daisies.

 _"We've had it with you Warden," screeched one of the human prisoners. A mob of people had somehow broken out of their jail cells and were armed to the teeth with instruments of torture and death. The Warden, a tall tanned man with black braids was forcing an unfortunate prisoner in an iron maiden. Another prisoner in rags yelled, "The time is now at hand! It's time to end your tyranny!"_

 _"What makes you think you can stop me from doing my job? I torture prisoners and I get paid for it. You're all in here for a reason. Now get back in your cells before I execute you!" yelled the Warden, brandishing a red hot poker._

 _One of the bulkier prisoners had a collar and chain. He yelled, "Your reign of terror is over_

 _Warden!" The prisoners held their captor down on the floor, kicking and stabbing him. The largest prisoner clamped the collar and chain around the Warden's throat. The inmates drove the Warden back to the edge of a low fence on the uppermost level of the prison, tying the end of the chain to a hook and pushing him off, killing him instantly..._

Opening his eyes quickly, Thresh realized the music had stopped and was holding a hand to where his heart should be. The Chain Warden glared at Sona, trying to wonder how her music affected him so. He saw hope in her eyes, and he felt the need to destroy it. He smirked and said, "They won't rescue you. You're nothing to them. You aren't worth the risk. Humans would not risk so many souls for the life of one woman."

If anything, his words made her more resolute, the music she played echoing louder off of the wall, as she met his gaze with a cold glare. They would come for her, Demacians never abandoned an ally in need. No matter the danger. Such was their honor, and she built it up to a deafening roar, her music amplified by some mysterious sound magic she seemed to wield that did not quite follow the normal laws. She made no attempt to harm him, or escape, but it was as if the music was screaming her open defiance of him, despite her fear.

 _"I...I'm frightened of you..."_

Mildly surprised by the maven's honesty, the Warden replied in mocking laughter, "Afraid of little old me, are you?"

 _"Y-yes..."_

"You're taking all the fun from this, beautiful woman," smirked Thresh teasingly as he snaked an arm around her neck, his fingers tickling her with the coldness in his Undeath. "What amusement can I gleam if you do not defy me?"

Even her mind's voice was quiet for the greater half of five minutes before she asked the specter, _"You...think I'm beautiful?"_ She had thought moments before, ' _I'm blushing at being complimented on my appearance by a madman? Something_ _ **must**_ _be wrong with me!'_ Sona was gazing into Thresh's spooky green eyes, her own blue ones twinkling.

"I...I think nothing of the sort, wench," scoffed the Chain Warden as he covered a blush creeping on his face. The pallor of his face returned and said, "Whatever. You're attractive by human standards. In undeath, love is a joke. It is the sickest of irony's sick jokes: the place where logic and order go to die." Thresh crowed with delight at his own joke.

Snorting at his bad joke, Sona retorted, _"You're wrong! Love is a special and sacred emotion. But besides the point, what were_ _ **you**_ _thinking?"_

"Maybe in time, I would impart such knowledge."

Xxx

Another day had passed and the cycle had been reset. Sent to bed at a specific time, woken exactly twelve minutes after locked into her room, returned to the shackles until brought back to the throne room where her collar was put back on and latched the master's belt. It was routine since the first week Sona was kidnapped. Today was just as unremarkable, but unlike the previous day.

"Would you like to meet my favorite slave? She's quite the riot," the Warden asked out of the blue. Sona said nothing, just staring at the floor. Whether or not she heard him, the maven remained reticent. _'In time, she will learn to answer promptly and without delay. For now..._ "

With the snap of his metallic fingers, Thresh called, "Stallord Y'sana, fetch my newest slave from the Aft wing. It's about time we introduce them. This will be _fun._ "

Obeying its master, a suit of ebony armor brought in something odd; a woman unlike any other Sona had seen before.

Her eyes were what drew you in; crimson irises with black sclera, making her one of the most unique creatures in Valoran. Second most noticeable features that nobody could be blind enough to miss, were her large, furry breasts and waspish hips large enough to give her the title of MILF at the very least. Those mammaries were held at bay by a transparent camisole.

"Meet Shauna Vayne, ex-demon hunter," he said, taking the lead from the seemingly soulless shell. The Black Knight shuffled out, dragging metal feet as the Warden continued speaking, "I was out for a stroll when she tried to kill me. I lectured her how rude it was to attack out of nowhere. So I taught her a valuable lesson and this," he said, flourishing a hand to her form, "was the result."

"H-hello," stuttered the bat woman in a sensual, honeyed tone, giving away clever intelligence hidden by her overtly sexual form. "Do you have a name~?" She questioned the mortal woman.

"Her name is Sona Buvelle, Ionian by birth but adopted by a Demacian noble. She's mute to everyone but me," interjected the Chain Warden as he crossed his arms in a nonchalant manner. "Somehow, I've managed to link my soul to hers."

"She's very pretty. Did you abduct her from the mainland or was she here? Was she armed like I had been, or a defenseless damsel you plucked from her home?" Asked Shauna curiously, her hatred towards the Chainwarden had not quite been diffused yet.

Rolling his eyes, Thresh replied, "That hurts Shauna, implying that I had the audacity to steal a woman without initiating combat first. She tried valiantly to stave off my assault, but ultimately failed. Whatever reason she had for visiting the Isles...is no longer important. all that should matter to her now is her master: me!" The madman chuckled, a cruel disregard for his pet's emotions.

"You sicken me,"'snorted the bat woman as she crossed her wing-like arm. A little bit of her old personality seemed to be poking through despite her corruption. "You ought to just die already."

With a twisted smirk, the Warden said with heavy sarcasm, "Oh no my dear, I'm quite innocent. I would never hurt so much as a fly. I used to even have to have other people take care of bees that wandered into my windows." Then a hearty, but haunting laugh emanated from his chest as he said, "Oh I've already been dead for I don't ...centuries! I just never learned how to stay dead. AhahaHA."

'I just don't understand why you tortured me, but you barely touched that one,'' the musician pouted with her arms crossed. 'You know something about me that you're keeping secret.'

Grabbing Sona's wrist, the madman said as he completely ignored the part about the secret to her past. "Oh very well my little songbird. I always did like you more. So I'll treat you to something nice..." As those last few words were spoken, he began pulling the black tunic styled shirt over his head. The gauntlets were nowhere to be seen.

For the first time since she was abducted, she saw Thresh undressing. Once his top was gone, she could see an impressive collection of scars and tattoos dotting various places on his pale torso. Scars thick and thin, all sizes and shapes marred his epidermis. Ink embedded in his skin depicted gruesome scenes of murder and torture, few too sick to even look at for Sona. Some tame, or illegible text in some forgotten language. But there, along his collarbone, was a permanently scarred ring that went around his neck that made the songstress rather curious.

"Like what you see?" Mocked the Warden as he advanced towards the mute musician. An unsavory glint in his eyes gave away his less than pure intentions and put his pets on edge.

The cheesy line made Sona cringe and frown at her kidnapper. 'As if!' She replied venomously, still bitter about being taken from her journey.

"Vayne." The name was spoken emotionlessly and without attachment. A seriousness hung stalely in he air with the lack of emotion.

"Of course master!" Chirped the bat, scurrying out of the room. The room sat in a pregnant silence for a solid ten minutes. When Shauna returned, a bronzed platter with a chalice of...milk and a diverse variety of... pastries?

This baffled the silent songstress as the bat balanced the tarnished plate onto one arm of the throne. What was so so special about the food so human placed before her. The snack set out for her appeared so ordinary, but was it possible they were tampered with?

"Go ahead, it's a reward for being such a good girl. They won't harm you or anything strange. " His promise seemed so genuine and she shouldn't be so paranoid.

Tentative, the silent songstress reached out for one of those delectable fruit tarts. 'It's so sweet, tangy with the blueberries and strawberries." She hadn't seemed to notice the off flavor.

A long pause of silence reigned throughout the chamber after the buxom woman had gulped down the whole chalice of milk and eaten most of the pastries.

"You'd look better with some new accessories. Dress off, now," barked the madman, breaking the ice that had begun to form in the extended silence.

Her mind hazy from the drugged treats, she obeyed. The moment her corset was unlaced and on the floor, she was pulled into Thresh's lap. Her breasts jiggled and bounced as she was jostled around.

"Do me a favor and prevent her from moving around," the Warden told the pink bat woman. "It would be unfortunate if she squirmed too much and something bad happened."

Vayne chirped and held the flawless skinned woman by pushing a hand against a shoulder and the other on her outer thigh. "Done and done, Master~"

With his slave keeping Sona pinned against his body, Thresh produced a thin needle. Gaze focused on the buds capping the songbird's breast, a hand roughly held it firm while lining the point of the needle with the center of the nipple, he poked it through in one fluid movement. And with the left breast, he reciprocated the same action. Then in a span of a few seconds, he replaced each needle with little rods about the the diameter of a quarter ( **being proportionate to the size of her tits , areola and nipple)**. Lastly, Thresh screwed on small gold orbs inlaid with sapphire to the rods to complete the twin pieces of jewelry.

"Good girl, you behaved well."

'What did you do? It didn't hurt very much,' inquired the mute musician as she inspected the fresh mutilation to her chest. A golden barbell protruded from both sides of each nipple, the precious metal gleaming in the moonlight streaming in from an opaque stained glass window. It was a little sore, but it had hardly hurt. Had she become desensitized from pain after being tortured? Still, they kinda looked pretty.

"They're called piercings you silly woman. Impaling the nipple with a needle and then placing a small metal rod. Then you fasten small little balls onto each end to complete the barbell. It's a fairly quick affair for a sexy modification. Do you like them? Because I adore them so...very...much."

'It...I actually feel...sexy?' Her mind's voice implored slight confusion, as though she was surprised or unsure why she felt this way to the body jewelry. Despite that it had been kind of against her will, she hadn't struggled much. ' _I'm getting tired. And too weak to move-'_ The minstrel stopped as she was let go from the chains and thrown over the Warden's shoulder and began walking swiftly towards her 'cell.'

 _ **[Lemon Warning]**_

"It's been a long time since I've laid eyes on this bed," mused the Chain Warden as he stepped into a large, one windowed bedroom. Old tapestries of forgotten lines dotted the wall. In two corners, were four by four braziers that gave the room a dim lighting, giving it a warm, cozy feel. The hearth itself burned with an eerie green blaze that gave off no heat. "I do oh so apologize for the lack of available beds. I have not needed to sleep since returning from the cold embrace of death. I do wish it suits your mortal need for slumber. I bid thee a dear night's rest..."

Sona's heart raced inside her chest as those blue eyes watched the Chain Warden showing her to her bed. The songstress's body heated up slightly with a new sensation she wasn't familiar with. A fragile body moved to sit on the rather unpleasant looking bed. Without thought her hand shot up seeming like out of nowhere clutching onto his scarred arm. The maiden looked to the floor, a rogue tear slipped from her eye as she 'spoke', "... _don't... go..."_

"Hmm? What for?"

Sona refused to make eye contact, choosing to keep staring at the lavish rug draped over the stone floor. The faded design of autumn leaves filled her vision before she said, " _I want you to stay...because I despise being alone. Without you here, I am again, just a mute. I like being heard by someone other than myself."_ She grasped his muscled upper arm, pulling it closer to her. What she said next, took all of the courage she possessed, _"...I was hoping perhaps you could kiss me again…"_

"So the innocent little lady likes to be close to the darkness?" A wicked grin crossed the Chain Warden's face as the blush crossed the young maiden's cheeks.

 _"...and perhaps you would be willing to make love to me..."_

"Make love? Don't be silly, a stupid phrase to imply fucking," smirked Thresh as he grinned at the maiden who was half on the bed, half standing. "There are likely a hundred euphemisms to imply sex, but fucking is just a wonderfully primal word! Very well, I suppose I could remedy the problem concerning your virginity." The blue eyes continued to look to the ground; was Sona actually capable of the word… fucking? The Maven of the Strings was a lover… a peaceful creature.. would the Chain Warden be able to corrupt her enough that there would be no love in what she was asking from him.

The busty minstrel gulped, thinking that he would probably just have brushed her off. But he had accepted. " _I need a new dress soon. But now...let's do this before I change my mind._ " She could still not believe herself, that she was going to have sex with the man whom had initially kidnapped her from the ghost town.

The Warden gave a muted chuckle as he said, "I suppose I'll have to arrange for a tailor, or if she's willing, Y'sana could sew you a new dress that isn't so filthy. Blue really does suit you though. Add some black and you'd be quite a trophy to behold. Now, be a dear and lay on the bed."

 _"...as you wish,"_ said Sona tensely. She scooted back so her legs fit on the bed. She quickly shucked the tattered blue dress, it's elegance having declined. The buxom Maven now knelt on her knees, and hands in her lap. All that covered her now was a black lace bra supporting her E cup breasts and a modest pair of matching panties. The bra came off to show her recently pierced nipples and large areola. Her eyes were strictly on the Chain Warden, wondering what he would do first.

 _Clunk_! The bulky belt that had kept the pants in place fell to the floor. Boots sat by the door, as if kicked off. Then the skin tight pants joined the chainmail belt, exposing him completely.

She could not help but nearly drool at the sight of Thresh's twelve-pack abs. Though his skin was almost alabaster white, his attractiveness was not diminished. The scars dotting his torso only made him sexier. But those tattoos still made her wince. Not realizing it, the busty minstrel had pressed a hand to his lower stomach, her dexterous digits flowing over the muscled area. _"Wow..."_ The soft hands slowly moved up her fingers rolling softly over a large scar, biting her bottom lip slightly his body was more enjoyable than she imagined it would be.

Snapping his fingers, a small rope of chains budded out of nothingness, spectral in appearance. He glided over to her, purring into her ear, "Chains excite me, oh yes~! I always enjoy playing rough." Submissively, as it was in her nature, Sona held out her hands which the Chain Warden bound.

The ethereal chains were cold, but her heart was racing as she fell back onto the bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, two more chains apparated to tie her to the bedposts. Her body quivered against the silken sheets as she gazed at the madman standing adjacent to the bed. She was really going to do this!

Without warning, Thresh pounced his new toy like a cougar on a field mouse. His hand shot straight to her chest, fondling her breasts. A silent moan escaped Sona's lips as he firmly squeezed her left tit. In her mind's voice, she was panting heavily. Lusty moans were conveyed by their link. She couldn't help but feel turned on; she had never been touched like this. The Warden's hand snaked under her bra, his cold hand making her nipples harden even with the fresh body mods. His hands then continued to play with Sona's fleshy breasts, occasionally tweaking a nipple or pulling on a barbell. Each time he roughly pulled harder, making the Maven wince.

It was now time to add a little pain to the pleasure, so thought the Chain Warden. He raised his right hand, bringing it down just below Sona's clavicle, his sharp fingernails digging into her skin. She gasped silently at the pain. As he dragged his hand down her cleavage, a line of blood rose in it's wake. Pulling his hand away, the madman leaned his head down. Parting his thin lips, Thresh began to lick up her blood. The maiden squirmed in her bonds as she felt his tongue pass through the valley under the two mountains that were capped in perky nipples. The hooks at end of his braids bit at her sides, inflicting many small cuts on her sides and belly. The pain he was causing created many small paths of blood along with open wounds but these signs of pain also brought a coolness to the heat their bodies were creating.

When he stood up again, he grinned, "Pain can be pleasurable too, don't you agree my adorable little kitten?"

Panting soundlessly, Sona answered, " _It...it can be. Too much...I could not handle that, master."_ Being called master made Thresh grin wider. A simple request was turning into fun!

"Master you say? Well that suits me just fine, darling," Thresh chuckled condescendingly. Summoning a brand, it's tip glowing cherry red, he said, "Oh my, I must mark you as my property then. I own you!" As he said that, he stamped the brand at the top of the 'v' where her cleavage began. Throwing her head back, Sona screamed. But no sound came out. In his head, the Warden heard her agony. It excited him so! "Ah, now you are mine, in body and soul!"

She was his.. his he said as the heat of agony built into her chest rather quickly. The young woman tried to be strong against the pain, she tried to impress the madman she was now calling master but the pain was outweighing the pleasure. " _Master… please.. please… too much pain.. Master please pleasure.. I'm begging…"_

The wicked grin from hearing her scream in pain was now growing even wider as she begged for pleasure.. as she begged for him. It was a different kind of torture for him but he was loving it. Letting the pain causing actions slow down slightly he looked upon the woman before him, so sweet, so innocent just begging to be corrupted. "I suppose it's time to begin the main course. I shall fulfill your request and take your virginity!" He laughed, grasping his erect pole.

She gasped nothing could prepare her for the Chain Warden. The Warden's length was a lot more massive than she imagined. Like with the brassiere, the Maven's lace panties were ripped from her waist. Her womanhood was exposed to the cold air. Only a small, neatly trimmed blue patch of hair in the shape of a musical note crowned her slit. The fragile body shivered slightly from the new cold wave of air that washed over her body. The Warden seemed to notice this and wasted no time lining himself at her entrance.

Effortlessly, the Chain Warden lifted her legs over his shoulders. In one swift and fluid movement, he was inside her. Sona mentally screamed at the sudden movements and the pressure of him suddenly inside her, he spared no time causing her to feel such pain and a slightly popping feeling. Oh the agony and pleasure of her scream was music to the Chain Warden ears causing him to push her limits harder and faster. His thick shaft rammed Sona's cunt like a piston. A few moments of agony soon turned into moans of begging for more and more, Thresh's grin widened even greater as his body felt amazing against hers and in hers.

" _AHN_!" moaned the silent songstress, her eyes fluttering as her entrance was being stretched. Her vision was becoming blurry. A burning in her lower region was rising. Before she knew it, Sona had reached her first climax. Ecstasy filled her body as she went over the edge. " _Master… please no more… please I can't…"_ The mute moaned louder through their connection, causing a slight grunt from him.

Thresh kept thrusting, not a change in pace, but ramming himself deeper into her honeypot. He growled as he humped Sona's womanhood. While one hand held the busty minstrel's leg steady, the other squeezed her ass, causing her to mentally squeak. His wandering hand appeared to please her wherever it could reach.

His unrelenting assault gave the maiden another two orgasms before he finally was at his limit. Hilting himself as deep into her dripping cavern, the Warden grunted as he unleashed his seed into her hungry flower. His unholy stamina had served him and his toy well.

Pulling himself out, Thresh smirked as he dressed himself. The spectral chains vanished, causing Sona to collapse onto the bed. She quickly lapsed into exhausted slumber.

"Sleep well kitten. You did admirably well for your first time~" chuckled the Chain Warden before exiting the bedroom.

 **A/N: Just a reminder, I do happen to have a full time job, so I can't spend hours upon hours working my magic on these pages, so just be a little more patient between chapters. A girl needs her down time to play games and relax too!**


	5. Act IV

**A/N: A much awaited chapter. Inspiration was a little difficult to encounter until I was inspired by two sources: A song by Falconshield and a few matches of MadLife's epic plays. One day, I'll be as amazing as him with Thresh. By the way, have you seen Dark Star Thresh skin. It's his best skin to date.**

 **Enjoy this barrel of exposition.**

 **Act IV**

He brought me out to what was a balcony or what passed as a terrace. It had only been an hour since I woke, but the constant night sky made it difficult to tell what time it was or where in the year we were. No matter how long I spent in this undead land, I could not get used to it. It was the same with the unnatural frigidity of the island. Even with the modest smoke and forest green dress he ordered me to wear today. Thankfully he allowed me a mantle fastened with a skull shapes brooch to stay the chill. Behind me was the heavy door leading back into the castle. A sad little garden and a few plants in pots were wilting and overrun with weeds.

"Take a gander down below and tell me what you see." Came his abrupt command out of the silence between us.

And I looked. What I saw, caused a chill to creep down my spine.

Down below in the courtyard, was a sight that shuddered through my entire body. Hundreds of ghostly warriors stood motionless. An army of faceless, loyal slaves armed to the teeth to fight for any cause. Some were body less and some still had bits of flesh stuck to their skeletal bodies. IMaster was truly a terrifying creature.

'W-what are they?'

With a smirk on his pale face, the Warden replied, "Empty souls wiped as clean as a blank canvas. Then molded to follow my absolute orders as creatures of the battlefield. Ingenious, really. Ah but the downside of mindless zombies is that they cannot grasp the concept of multiple combat styles. Ones first trained in the sword and shield cannot be taught magic and vice versa. But once all melded into a death machine, they make up for individual weaknesses. Kalista, a spirit of vengeance bestows a little with a little gift of preparing them for me. "

Suddenly I couldn't breathe. A presence so suffocating, like Thresh when I first met him weighed on me as though I had a ton of bricks on my shoulders. But didn't hold the same screaming malevolence I felt in my master. A twinge of greed and playfulness.

"Evelyn, how have things been, for an uninvited guest?" Queried my master, looking in my direction.

I was slightly confused when I saw the Warden's gaze at mine, but his dark sockets weren't quite looking at me. Then I realized it was no longer just Thresh and I here.

With a mischievous grin spreading across her cheeks, the stealthy woman replied in delight as her body materialized from the shadows, "So this is the lovely mortal you've taken a fancy to. She's quite a doll," cooed the strange woman as she pressed an overtly sharpened finger nail at my vulnerable jugular. My heart was in my throat, working overtime as fear encumbered my ability to think of anything exempting all the way I could die perish. Imagination of being jabbed, throat slit, broken neck or used as a shield in case Thresh was provoked enough. All those thoughts made my legs quiver for my life. I wasn't ready to die.

"You wouldn't dare hurt a hair on her head if you had a brain between your ears. Of course, if you don't release her, you may just regret it," the warden warns her in a snide tone. But that teasing act was only masking the rage boiling inside.

"And if I don't?"

"Then I suppose we can play a game called 'dodge the scythe'.

With a terror inducing growl, Thresh launched the scythe on the chain, hooking the blade between my mantle and flesh. With a great heave, my spectral master thrust me through the air, only to land in his supernaturally strong arms. "I told you to keep your dirty claws off my Bride!"

Despite that I had just been a situation of mortal peril, I couldn't help the shiver that caressed my body. Even my master's face shifted to reflect to his true nature. A terrible specter of insanity and torture. But his dedication towards my well-being made my heart flutter in attraction. Was it strange I suffered from Stockholm syndrome but had still accepted Thresh as my lord, master and husband.

With a frown, Evelyn rubbed her wrist and said haughtily, "You realize you'll outlive your little sex toy by ages. And you defy the Lord's summons.

Turning away from the blue skinned woman, the Warden snapped, "You know nothing! If Mordekaiser deems

My actions treasonous, he can shove that mace up his ass. If he takes no for an answer, then he'll have to bring my husk back. By force. "

To me , he merely smiled. And it gave me horrible chills.

xxx

Around a campfire, Quinn and a few others she was familiar with ate bread that had gone stale on the way over to the Isles. These were the others in her group designated with killing one of the darkest spirits on the Shadow Isles.

Suddenly, Quinn asks, "What is this specter we hunt? Anything I ought to know about it?

Garen simply tossed a dossier and a ragged book held together by twine.

 _A horrible scraping of metal chains drifted over the fields. Outside, an unnatural fog rendered the moon and stars all but invisible, and the regular hum of insects fell silent._

 _Thresh approached a ruined hovel. He raised his lantern, not to see his surroundings, but to look inside the glass. The interior of the lantern resembled a starry nightscape with its thousands of tiny green glowing orbs. They buzzed frantically as if trying to escape Thresh's gaze. His mouth twisted in a grotesque grin, teeth glinting from the glow. Each of the lights was precious to him._

 _Behind the door, a man whimpered. Thresh sensed his pain, and was drawn to it. He knew the man's suffering like an old friend._

 _Thresh had only appeared to the man once, decades ago, but since then the spectre had taken everyone the man held dear: from his favorite horse to his mother, brother, and recently a manservant who had become a close confidant. The specter made no pretence of natural deaths; he wanted the man to know who caused each loss._

 _The spirit passed through the door, scraping his chains as they dragged behind him. The walls were damp and ingrained with years of grime. The man looked even worse: his hair long and matted, his skin covered in scabs - angry and raw from clawing. He wore what had once been fine velvet clothes, but were now little more than torn, tattered rags._

 _The man shrank from the sudden green glow, covering his eyes. He shook violently, backing away into the corner._

" _Please. Please, not you," he whispered._

" _Long ago, I claimed you as mine." Thresh's voice creaked and stretched, as if he had not spoken for an age. "It is time I collect..."_

" _I am dying," the man said, his voice barely audible. "If you're here to kill me, you'd best hurry." He made an effort to look at Thresh directly._

 _Thresh stretched his mouth wide. "Your death is not my desire."_

 _He set the glass door of his lantern slightly ajar. Strange sounds came from within - a cacophony of screams._

 _The man did not react, not at first. So many screams emerged that they blended together like the scraping of glass shards against each other. But his eyes widened in horror as he heard voices he recognized plead from Thresh's lantern. He heard his mother, his brother, his friend, and finally the sound he dreaded most: his children, wailing as if being burned alive._

" _What have you done?" he screamed. He scrambled for something to throw - a broken chair - and threw it at Thresh with all his strength. It passed through the spectre harmlessly, and Thresh laughed mirthlessly._

 _The man ran at Thresh, eyes wild with fury. The spectre's hooked chains whipped out like striking snakes. The barbed hooks struck the mortal's chest, cracking ribs and piercing his heart. The man fell to his knees, face twisted in delicious agony._

" _I left them to keep them safe," the man cried. Blood gurgled from his mouth._

 _Thresh wrenched his chains hard. For a moment, the man did not move. Then the ripping began. Like a rough-spun sheet being slowly torn, he was excruciatingly pulled from himself. His body convulsed violently, and blood sprayed along the walls._

" _Now, we begin," said Thresh. He pulled the captured soul, pulsing brightly from the end of the chain, and trapped him within the lantern. The man's hollow corpse collapsed as Thresh departed._

 _Thresh followed the curling Black Mist away from the cottage with his glowing lantern held high. Only after Thresh was gone, and the fog dissipated, did the insects resume their nightly chorus and stars once again filled the night sky._

"What's this?" she asked.

Rubbing his eyes with restlessness, the broad shouldered man answered, "According to the author, he claims to have witnessed the tale in the book I handed over. Doubtful it's true that he saw it all happen. But it's all we really have to go on."

Xxx

One of the winding corridors had a door, just slightly ajar. A room I probably ought not to investigate. But my curiosity overpowered my will to obey the specter whom I was his property, evident by the brand just above my cleavage. Tiptoeing forward, I carefully pushed the old, creaky door just wide enough to squeeze inside. The less I left out of place, the less likely I would be caught.

What I found, was a...study? I'd never expect an office of sorts filled to the brim with books lining the walls, maps and trinkets from a man far more insane than any living creature. Mayhaps there was more to him than a thirst for slaughter and torture?

An odd, loose-leaf journal lay askew on the desk, a title scrawled illegibly. But inside was more comprehensible.

Day 5

 _"As the fog parted and I first beheld the Shadow Isles, I sensed immediately that something was amiss. From the mysteriously placid waters of the bay to the dead calm of the night air, an eerie stillness gripped the place – even the sea and sky. Even as I made ready to go ashore, the crew begged me to return at once to the mainland."_

 _Day 9_

 _"Despite its size, the immense forest loomed like a sepulcher around us, and the dank air and unnatural stillness bred increasing feelings of paranoia and dread. My companion begged me to turn back, but some primal yearning spurred me onward, deeper into the gloom."_

Lying just under the diary belonging to the Spider Queen Elise, was a much thicker book. ' _Odd...why would he have a book dated more recently? Unless...'_ Flipping open to the table of contents, she found a suspicious chapter that seemed interesting. From the page number list, she leafed through unnecessary parts until she found what she was looking for:

 _In an age history has all but forgotten, the man who would later be known as Thresh was once a member of an order devoted to gathering and protecting knowledge. The masters of this order tasked him with guarding a hidden underground vault filled with dangerous and corrupted magical artifacts. Thresh was incredibly strong-willed and methodical, which made him well-suited to such work._

 _The vault Thresh guarded was buried deep beneath the citadel at the center of an island chain and protected by runic sigils, arcane locks and potent wards. Spending such time in the presence of dark spells began to affect Thresh as the magic sought out his innate malice. For years the relics preyed on his insecurities, taunting him with his deepest fears and feeding his bitterness._

 _Thresh's spite surfaced through wanton acts of cruelty, as his talent for exploiting vulnerability bloomed. He slowly tore pages out of a living book, binding it back together when it was all but spent. He scratched the glass of a mirror bound with the memory of an ancient mage until it was opaque, trapping the man in darkness, only to polish it anew and repeat. Just as a secret wants to be told, a spell wants nothing more than to be cast, and Thresh denied this each day. He would start to recite an incantation, then let the words trickle off his tongue, halting just before the last syllable._

 _He became exquisitely skilled at covering all evidence of his cruelty, such that no one in the order suspected he was anything other than a disciplined guard. The vault had grown so vast that no one knew its contents as completely as Thresh, and the lesser artifacts faded from the order's memory, as did Thresh himself._

 _He resented that he had to hide his meticulous work. Everything under his watch was evil, or corrupted in some way - why shouldn't he be free to do as he would?_

 _The vault held many peculiar magical artifacts but no people, until one day when a chained man was dragged into the sunken catacombs. He was a warlock who had infused his body with raw sorcery, which gave him the power to regenerate his flesh, no matter how grievous the wound._

 _Thresh was delighted at his new ward - a being who could feel the full range of human suffering, but would not perish, a plaything he could torment for years to come. He started methodically separating the warlock's skin from his flesh with a hook, and used his chains to lash and tear the open wound until it healed. He took to wearing the chains as he patrolled the vault, reveling in the warlock's fear at the long, dragging sound of his approach._

 _With ample charges to torment in the vault, Thresh became even more distanced from the order above. He began to take his meals in his underground chamber lit by a single lantern, rarely emerging from the catacombs. His skin developed a pallid complexion from lack of sunlight, and his face became gaunt and hollow. Members of the order avoided him, and when a series of mysterious disappearances plagued the order, none thought to investigate Thresh's lair._

 _When the disaster known as the Ruination struck, magical shockwaves claimed the lives of all who lived on the isles and transformed them into a state of undeath. While others screamed in anguish, Thresh reveled in the ruin. He rose from this cataclysm as a spectral abomination, but unlike many who have passed into the shadow world, Thresh did not lose his identity. Rather, his penchant for cruel torture and ability to discern weakness was only heightened._

 _He relished the chance to continue his cruelty without fear of reprisal, unfettered by the limits of mortality. As a wraith, Thresh could torment the living and the dead endlessly, delighting in their despair before claiming their soul for an eternity of suffering._

 _Thresh now seeks only particular victims: the most clever and resilient, and those with a strong will. His greatest joy comes from tormenting his victims until they lose any last glimmer of hope, before facing the inevitable hook of his chains._

Sona gasped silently as her mind absorbed the last of the information regarding her master's origin.

While my master busies himself with those from other nations or the unsavory types found on the Isle's themselves, I have found my way into my master's personal study. It's much more well kept than other parts of the Citadel and far more different than most rooms within the fortress. Easily dusted daily and neatly put away or stacked books. It is more than just a study I would think, considering h . As I enter the room from the stairs beneath, the brand on my collar bone begins to tingle and glow a dark ghostly turquoise. Moments later, the tickling sensation vanishes.

Since the incident a few weeks ago with the Spider Queen pretending to attempt to kidnap me, something has left me bereft. Not my curiosity, but perhaps my peace. Elise's casual words have left my mind restless. The words that burrow beneath my skin and cause my skin to crawl with worry of the unknown. Each evening, I try to decipher what the seductress had meant by her vile tongue. But I cannot make heads or tails of what she spoke of in passing. Obviously, she knows something of Thresh's past. Information I must obtain and learn if I am ever to discover why I was simply kidnapped than just murdered in cold blood. Anything that may possibly give him a change of heart!

It was difficult to find somewhere to start my search, considering there was no order in which the books had been shelved. Histories were mixed with fiction, poetry with magical tomes. It was half past the hour before I even noticed the stack of books sitting neatly on an antique desk that might have been carved from a single piece of either cherry or mahogany wood. Even some of the shelves held bottles and flasks. Some were familiar; reagents for potions and brews. Others, I had not seen before in my lifetime. A few in particular appeared to contain ghosts or spirits of a sort. I'd better not lay my hands on any of them. Thresh would not take kindly to my clumsiness if I wanted to take a closer look.

Gliding over to the reading desk, I sat myself down in the cushy looking chair with a moth-eaten throw blanket tossed carelessly over it. There were three large books lying consecutively on the desk. There were a few others, but these one had caught my attention. The first was a leather-bound codex titled ' _Ancient Grimoire'_ , although I left that one untouched. Probably filled with horrible spells and incantations related to Necromancy.

Looking at the cover of the next book, I found that it was wrapped in thin sheets of oiled leather to protect it from mold and nasty pests. Carefully, I unrolled the strips until a scrapbook of sorts fell into my hands. It was rather weighty to my surprise. There were no words nor images marking the thick leather canvas. This piqued my interest further.

Upon venturing past the cover, a surprise caught me unawares. Inside, was a multitude of old drawings, photos and little blurbs written by someone I presumed to have been Thresh. Many of the photos showed a younger man and a young woman smiling and laughing. There were pictures of them skinny dipping (which made me blush), a few of them cuddling up and then there was a picture of Thresh kneeling on one leg, putting a ring on her third girl seemed to be vaguely familiar; she had a large bust and long flowing turquoise hair. Wait a tic... she looks a lot like me! No wonder the Warden kidnapped me. I look like his deceased fiance!

Last in queue was a history book of some kind. Upon opening the massive cover the tome, a cloud of settled dust flew up, causing me to wipe my eyes and cough a few times. Done with that distraction, I squinted at the words scrawled on the inside cover:

 _'Once, he was a noble king, until grief overcame his reason. In the end, it was not his blade that stole our lives.'_ There was no signature from the anonymous quote.

I continued on, turning past the table of contents and past the preface into the intro to the actual text.

 _'Many are the grim tales told of the Shadow Isles, and the Black Mist that shrouds them... And while all good folk shun this cursed land, sometimes its darkness comes even when uninvited.'_ Sona frowned and flipped to the next section. _'Before the Shadow Isles became a land of death, the islands teemed with natural life and beauty. This was never truer than in the isles' sacred forest: a paradise of thriving trees and countless species, both animal and spirit alike. When the king of the Shadow Isles ordered his sorcerers to crack open the barrier separating life and death, the forest served as a well of power the magi drank deeply was the cause the beginning of the land's destruction. Since that fateful day, there was no hope in stopping the rapid decay._

 _First, it had begun simply with just the life-force of the wildlife on the main island. But the king ordered the sorcerers to widen the rift in which they had already opened. In doing so, the veil devoured the ones to hold it open. A brave few attempted to seal it off and prevent more deaths, but none succeeded. A month had passed and most of the humans had wasted away. The king had hoarded most of the capital's food and without any wildlife to hunt, the lower classes had died out from starvation and grief. Once the last of anything edible had been erased, the nobles of the court either committed suicide or resorted to cannibalism. Those who ate human flesh were warped beyond all recognition, stooping so far as to consume the rotting corpses of their brothers._

 _In a desperate act to save himself, the King of Reddinwald used his brothers and sister as scapegoats to attain immortality with dark magicks of blood and fire. Their sacrifice in his betrayal granted him undeath and incredible power. Though he lived though the genocide of his people, he became terribly lonely. In his foolishness, he became the Ruined King._

 _Last to fall, was the Great Citadel of Arun Daran, a fortress built upon the bluffs of Dolan. Though the walls were enchanted to keep magic out, the inmates died of a mysterious cause other than the lack of edible food. Some say that the Warden of the prison was murdered by his own inmates and hung atop the tallest tower. Another legend has it that because of the death magic flowing into the world from that portal, Lord Naz'angul returned from beyond the grave to enact his revenge._

 _Years later, the last of the trees had died, becoming skeletons of their former beauty. By then, the wave of death had spread into the nearby waters and the other islands. Two decades pass and the entire island enters a state of eternal undeath._

 _Time may reverse the horrendous acts done against the Isles; if one were to find and close the portal from which death leaks-_

 _Then something caught my eye; trapped between a stack of books was a thin piece of paper. Freeing it from its confines, it turned out to be an unopened letter._

 _'I shouldn't...' I murmur silently as I gaze down at the addressed to a masculine name. I assumed it was my master's name before he fell prey to the shadows._

 _Going against my own conscience, I took the curved letter opener and broke the wax seal keeping it shut. Inside the yellowed envelope was a half page of parchment with elegant letters. I gulped and began to read,_

 _To my beloved,_

 _My time is nearing it's end despite all you've done to try and stop me from expiring. I apologize that I cannot stay with you longer no matter how strong my will may be. If only I could stay by your side for eternity, but this illness has taken it's toll._

 _Bedridden for months has given me plenty of time to reflect on the years we have spent together. On the sixth of May, we met. Half a year later, we were wed thanks to your persistence. Do you remember when I pushed you into the lake? And then I pulled you in with me. Such nostalgia. I would never trade a single memory of us for all the wealth in the world._

 _It's getting difficult to hold this quill. At this point, it's easier for the doctor to transcribe my thoughts while you work at the Vaults._

 _But no wishes upon the stars will ever bring me back to life. Grieve not for me. Do not shed a single tear in my name. We are soul-mates, and nothing can change this. Death cannot break this magical bond between us, my love. We shall be reunited in the next life. And the reincarnation after. Eternally intertwined by the gods of fate. My soul will always find yours. Wait for me, ._

 _Forever your loving wife,_

 _Priscilla_

Tears had begun to spill from my eyes before I had noticed myself. 'How terrible,' I told myself, believing to be alone. 'I think I understand now why he kidnapped me in the first place other than on a mere whim. Thresh must think I'm Priscilla's reincarnation.

"You did not heed my warning," said a chilling voice behind me. I didn't have to turn around to know I had been caught.

'M-master, I didn't h-hear you return through the front gate. I-'

"Enough of your blabbering, woman. You have disobeyed me and failed to follow one simple order. I explicitly told you to go anywhere but my study!" Roared Thresh, furious as a nest of pissed off wasps. "You could have tended to the garden on the terrace. Wandered the dungeons or even stayed in your room. But despite the freedom I gave you, my words go ignored. "I see that my longstanding ownership of you has hardly dulled your curiosity, woman," sneered a harsh, ghostly voice from the doorway, tearing me away from the tome my eyes had pored over. "Pray tell me, for what reason have you been snooping in my private study for?"

Biting my lip, I stuttered, 'I...' Honestly, I did not have an answer to give. I merely stood there, casting my gaze to the dirty stone floor instead of looking at HIM. Though I felt a little guilty for going behind his back, there was no regret for my actions. What I learned today was certainly worth whatever punishment the Warden has in store for me. I then felt a rough, iron grip on my arm, cold metal digging into my delicate flesh. Then a tug. In his building rage, he had begun to pull me behind him.

Thresh growled as he half dragged me up an entire floor to the room. His clawed gauntlets left a penta of cuts upon my right arm. Upon shoving me into the room, he spat, "One week, solitary confinement. You will not argue with me, you will not leave this room until I say so! Food will be delivered once a day and water three times a day. I do hope you learn this lesson."

xxx

Quinn x Swain/ Beatrice x Valor

When most of the soldiers were slumbering, a certain scout was awoken by the irritating nudging of a cold beak to her cheek."Dammit Valor," muttered a hastily armored Quinn whom had forgotten most of her leathers. She would have to punish him later.

"Valor! Why are you leading me all the way out there?" Whined Quinn as she crept soundlessly between the cover of trees. "I'm supposed to be asleep you silly bird!"

With a chirp, the bird of prey flew on ahead, leaving his master in his tailwind.

About half way between withering bushes, the scout spied Swain hurrying from the other direction. And he had a nasty look about what visible part of his face she could see.

"Beatrice! How dare you fornecate with the enemy's ugly bird-"

"Raaawwk!" Interrupted the six eyed raven as she scooted closer on the branch toward the proud eagle partnered to none other than Demacia's wings.

With a venomous growl, the robed man barked," What are you doing girly? Are you trying to steal my companion? Speak wretch!"

"It's nothing like that! Valor keeps flying off at odd hours of the day. So I tracked him up here to find him being seduced by your black bird. Why is Noxus here? No doubt to exploit the Isle's vile undead magic." The proficient scout huffed, adrenaline coursing through her veins as her fight or flight instinct struggled to pick a side. Running would give her time to warn the army while the thought of defeating the leader of Noxian Empire was just as appealing.

"Don't be stupid, insignificant whelp," snarled Swain. "Necromancy is a useful tool. Your precious prince refuses to allow the study because he is weak. Is there really such a thing as morals? In war, everything is a weapon and there is folly in rejecting the most useful of tools. That is why those who are stronger, win. "

"I have to tell them,"'she muttered under her breath, trying to get Valor to return with her. But the proud avian was unwilling to be parted from the six eyes raven which prove to be quite fruitless.

Grabbing Quinn by the wrist, The Tyrant asked harshly, "Where do you think you're going? You have information about me I am not letting go. A shred of intelligence would lose my edge against my sworn enemy. I am sorry about this, but you made gave me no other options, girl. Talon!"

A movement so silent and a shadow as swift, a strike to the back of Quinn's head brought a dull ache. Blackness then filled her vision

'No... Valor...'

 **So how was that chapter? So terribly sorry about the long wait. I had a horrible case of the insidious virus known as...WRITER'S BLOCK! Anyways, a couple reviews would be lovely!** **Is there any request you'd like me to consider adding to the fic?**

 **The next chapter will contain more action than has been happening since the beginning. A little too much sex to start, so I'll veer away from that for now. Enjoy and please review!**


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